Intelligent Fate

Where can the man fall?

l, 

not his mind

Is he even there?

When thinking on time, 

blending folds between us 

even when he is lost between them.

What is resting between her thoughts?

Where he becomes chaos and she falls under pressure

Under pleasure

Over the weight

Waiting.

It may feel like a weight,

The density of knowing a thing.

Perhaps death is reminding him

All thoughts known come to gravestones

Even though,

I feel a mind has little to hold

Rather,

The temple is that which is

Held

Or is that the hand of life 

Is his mind 

of life?

Though,

Am I intelligent to say

This isn’t for me.

This thing to have known means nothing without you

Without the space of you between the space of me

I am not wise

I am just a thinker alone without a pole to refer to

A pole,

The polarizing affect of knowing a thing too well

I seek to know loosely

Never to hold

Never to bring a thought to the grave, 

To meet its fate

Rather,

I am the grave

Nay,

The sky.

Whatever comes for this place

That too is welcome

This is fate…